Walk Well

Really, this has nothing to do with walking.

Walking along the other day, coming back from Opera, where I had just had a very vigorous and successful night of vociferous vocalising, I found I had a certain spring in my step. My legs were swinging out in front of me just a little bit more than usual, gaining, I am supposing, a few more inches on each stride than I would with my usual side. And so I was propelled along on my speedy stroll, in a very relaxed and elated manner. There was no more effort than usual, but I knew, be it by the whisps of wind that wandered over my face, or by feeling of solid connection that thrummed up through my legs, all the way, to my stomach, and heart, I do not know… but I knew! I could feel it in my ass.

It is a very old adage. Whatever you do, is worth doing well. And in my case, it seemed to spread like some miraculous disease. I sang well, and that gave me joy. That joy propelled my legs along with a youthful vitality I have rarely known, which gave me further joy. I then got home, felt happy, talked to my girlfriend happily, which gave me further joy, and even though she was nearly in a comatose stage of sleep, this did not bother me, and I was happy to kiss her goodnight and let her sleep, while I, still carried along, I drew for the first time in years. First a couple of doodles, something slightly romantic, as my mind was full of girlfriend thoughts; then some cool guys smoking; and finally a very detailed sketch of Mordecai Richler’s face, who’s book was sitting near by, with a very expressive snapshot of his ugly mug on the back cover.

I slept like a baby.
I have been walking for years, but I usually walk quite slowly. I am just a little fellow. When I try to walk quickly, I find I get shin splints. I never knew why.

I was walking wrong. I was trying to walk fast instead of walking fast. Leaning forward and motoring away with my legs did no good. Relaxing back, and swinging my legs out, planting my feet firmly on the ground, getting a good grip, rather than trying to lightly brush over the world, escape its gravity, rather than embrace it warmly… with my feet… this was the way.